by Cora Reilly
Matteo sneered. “Then you should reconsider your methods.”
Remo chuckled. “Don’t worry about my methods. I am Las Vegas. I own every club and whore and drug dealer. And soon I will have banished every fucking Bratva fucker from my whole territory, and after that, I will deal with the fucking Mexicans and then I will be the West.”
It wouldn’t be as easy as that. Las Vegas and Reno were under our complete control, but we still had to share many of the other cities in the West with the Russians and the Cartel. To banish them from every city would take considerable effort and forces. Forces that we were currently utilizing for our revenge on the Outfit.
“We have guests who need to see this,” Luca said firmly. “But I think we will exclude the women from the spectacle. I don’t think most of them have the ability to stomach this.”
“Perhaps you should stop coddling them like fragile porcelain dolls,” Remo muttered.
Luca smiled coldly. “I do as I please in my territory and you can do as you please in yours.”
We headed back downstairs. In the living room, Luca’s Underbosses and Captains had gathered, as well as their wives and a few low-ranking Famiglia soldiers. They regarded us with open curiosity. Fabiano, Leona, Kiara, and Adamo came over to us.
“There’s a slight change of plans,” Luca said. “We’ll hold the presentation of the sheets in the master bedroom.”
A murmur went through the guests.
“I’d strongly advise people sensitive to large amounts of blood to stay here,” Luca said. Some people laughed hesitantly but fell silent when they realized he wasn’t making a joke.
Every man in the room followed. Of course, they would never admit to having a problem with blood, but a few women followed along as well. Among them were Kiara’s aunt Egidia and Giulia, despite her husband’s obvious aversion to the idea. Durant’s wife Criminella wasn’t there. She had returned home after Luca had told her what her husband had done. She knew what the penalty for that kind of thing was. Everyone knew.
As expected, the sight of Durant caused the desired shock effect. Egidia rushed away toward the bathroom and didn’t return, and Giulia staggered into her husband, burying her face in his chest. He regarded the scene with the same mild surprise as Luca and Matteo had before.
“Tell your soldiers, tell everyone that this is what happens to child fuckers in my territory,” Luca said. When the guests had filed out and returned downstairs for brunch, only Felix remained with Luca, Matteo, Remo, and myself.
“I didn’t know,” he said quietly, pointedly not looking at Durant.
“I find it difficult to imagine that you wouldn’t have noticed a change in Kiara’s behavior after the rape. She’s still horrified of male closeness. I reckon that couldn’t have been much better when she was thirteen,” I said sharply.
Luca cocked an eyebrow. “That’s true, Felix. You know that I would have expected to be informed of such a crime so I could dish out the suitable punishment.”
Felix paled. “I didn’t know. Kiara isn’t my daughter, and she has always been peculiar. If she ever acted in an odd fashion, I put it down to what happened to her father.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Even someone with mediocre perception would have noticed something was off if they paid attention. But Kiara, being a traitor’s daughter, probably lived most of her life in the shadows. She was a Falcone now. She’d learn to hold her head high.
CHAPTER 9
KIARA
After saying goodbye to Giulia, I was shaken. It felt like more than just a temporary goodbye. We’d always lived in separate cities, but this was different. I was part of the Camorra now. If the truce didn’t hold, and from what I’d heard it wouldn’t last for very long, I’d never see her again.
But that wasn’t the only thing that turned my stomach into a pit of snakes. So far Nino had been kinder than expected. What if this was part of the plan? What if his pleasant mask slipped the moment we were in Las Vegas? That was their territory. That was where they could do as they pleased. It wasn’t like I could return to Baltimore if things didn’t work out—much less now that everyone knew what Durant had done to me.
The pitiful stares had been almost too much to bear, but the occasional assessing looks were even worse. It was as if people wondered if I had been the one who’d brought this down upon myself.
Leona and I walked ahead with the men behind us. She gave me a hesitant glance. We hadn’t talked much so far, but she seemed nice, and I couldn’t see any judgment in her eyes, even now that she knew about my past.
We stepped into the private jet, and I paused, unsure of where to sit. Leona smiled. “Why don’t you sit with me so we can get to know each other? I think the men have some things to discuss.”
Relieved about her offer, I followed her toward the back, and we sat across from each other. Nino, his brothers, and Fabiano settled on seats close to each other on the other end of the plane.
Nino didn’t seem to mind that I hadn’t chosen to sit beside him. This marriage was a necessary evil for him. Means to an end.
“So you’re married to Fabiano?” I asked Leona.
She flushed and it made her freckles stand out even more. Her eyes darted to the blond man. “Oh … no … we aren’t married. We haven’t been together for very long.”
“And your family allows you to be with him before marriage?”
Leona let out a laugh. “I’m not Italian. I’m an outsider.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. I wasn’t sure because of your name. They allow that in Vegas?”
Leona pursed her lips. “I’m not sure it’s something that’s allowed, but Remo allowed it for Fabiano.”
I knew at once that Leona was as wary of the Camorra Capo as I was. Everyone except his brothers was probably wary of him.
“So you grew up in a normal family?” I hadn’t had contact with outsiders often, so I found their company exciting.
Leona grimaced. “Well, I wouldn’t call my family normal by average standards. My parents are addicts. I mean were … my mother still is.” She took a deep breath.
“What about your father?”
“Fabiano killed him.”
I froze, my eyes moving to her boyfriend. As if he could feel my gaze, his blue eyes settled on me before they moved over to Leona and warmed. Trying to suppress my first reaction, I asked, “Why are you with him if he killed your father?”
Leona turned to face me. A hint of guilt flickered across her face before it disappeared, and she gave a small shrug. “My father wasn’t a good man.”
“And Fabiano is a good man?”
“God no,” Leona said with a laugh. “These men over there … they aren’t good.” She nodded toward the Falcones and Fabiano.
I nodded. “But is he good to you?”
Leona smiled. “He is.” Her blue eyes searched my face. “I don’t know what happened between Nino and you last night, but he killed the man who hurt you, so I think he wants to be good to you.”
I regarded Nino. He leaned back in the seat, looking relaxed, his lips pulling into an almost smile. I wondered if it was something he had to force or if his facial muscles did it on their own when his body registered a certain level of satisfaction. He met my gaze. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to be good to me or if he even knew what he wanted with me at all. I averted my eyes because his scrutiny made me feel self-conscious, even if I was the one who had begun staring.
“He doesn’t feel emotions, right?”
Leona shrugged. “He doesn’t show emotion. I don’t know what’s going on in his head. To be honest, I don’t want to know. He and Remo…” she shook her head then caught herself “…sorry. Nino is your husband now.”
“No,” I said, waving her off. “I understand. I feel the same way.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of my husband yet. He wasn’t what I’d expected. I had expected cruelness, and I knew it was in his nature considering what he and Remo had done to Durant. Even i
f my uncle had deserved to die, from Giulia’s shaken state, I could only guess how bad it had been. Would his cruel side eventually emerge when he was around me?
The thought of lowering my guard and then being hit with cruelty I no longer expected was something I’d once endured, and I didn’t want to go through again.
The mansion was a sprawling white estate with several wings, each of which belonged to one of the Falcone brothers. Still, I would have preferred to have more distance between Remo and me. Savio didn’t scare me as much, and Adamo was still a kid, even if he was already taller than me. Remo, Savio, and Adamo headed to their respective parts of the house when we arrived, leaving me alone with Nino. I was still unsure how to act around him. I was still scared of him, but not as much as before.
“Come on, I’ll show you around the house,” he said, gripping my wrist again. I didn’t even flinch this time because I’d expected it. He did it frequently, and I wondered why. Was holding hands too personal? Was it about dominance when he held my wrist like that?
From the foyer we moved into a massive high-ceilinged open space with French windows taking up an entire wall. I supposed this had been the living room once. Now it looked like a massive game room with a pool table, pinball machine, and bar with shelves full of liquor. A boxing bag hung from the ceiling and two huge sofas sat in front of a television screen that took up most of the wall. But the strangest thing was the boxing ring on the right side of the room.
“Before our father died, this was the living room and the dining room. We tore down the walls. This is where my brothers and I spend most evenings unless we are out.” Nino’s brows pulled together as he regarded me. Maybe he realized now this wasn’t an all-boys house anymore. I was the intruder who ruined it all.
“I won’t bother you during your family time,” I said, sparing him the trouble of trying to let me down easily. I’d spent most of my life on the fringes. It wouldn’t break me.
“You are family now.”
I doubted Remo and Savio agreed with him. Adamo seemed nice enough, but he was probably only trying to be polite, and I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to spend excessive time with the Falcone brothers.
“I’ll show you the kitchen, but we almost never use it. We only keep a few things for breakfast. We order takeout for dinner every day.”
“Don’t you have maids or something like that?” I asked, following him to the back of the house toward the kitchen. It was all stainless steel and large enough to prepare dinner for many people.
“No. We have two cleaning people who come over twice a week to take care of the worst of it, but we don’t really like people around.”
“Oh.” I never attempted to cook because our maids had always done it, but I wouldn’t mind giving it a try. Without any maids breathing down my neck, now it was an option.
We continued our tour into Nino’s part of the house. It consisted of a smaller, sparse living room with nothing but a couch and a TV. On the ground floor was a guest bathroom and another room, which was stuffed with old furniture. On the first floor were three more bedrooms and a master bedroom—the room Nino’s and I would now share.
I stepped into the large bedroom with a massive four-poster bed on the left, which faced the door way. High windows framed both sides of it. Dark red drapes partially covered the windows.
Nino tightened his fingers around my wrist. “I told you there’s no reason for fear.”
I gave him a confused look, but he didn’t elaborate. To our right, I noticed two doors. One of them was ajar, exposing a black marble floor. The door next to it was closed. Nino followed my gaze. “That’s the walk-in closet. There’s enough room for your clothes. I don’t need much space.”
He released me, and I moved into the adjoining bath and found a floor-level shower, a Jacuzzi tub, and double sinks set in a black marble countertop. A window behind the tub looked out onto the vast gardens.
Nino waited in the bedroom for me, next to the bed. Taking a deep breath, I walked closer. He looked relaxed, calm, in control. “We will share a bed.”
“Of course,” I said quickly.
“Have you changed your mind about me seeking satisfaction elsewhere?” he asked neutrally, but I wondered what his thoughts were about it.
My stomach tightened. His eyes traced my face with a hint of curiosity. For some reason it took me a second longer to give him an answer. “No,” I finally said.
He nodded. “I won’t bring women here with me, so you don’t have to be worried.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Let’s go back downstairs. I haven’t shown you the library or the gardens yet.”
My excitement spiked. “You have a library?”
Nino’s mouth twitched. “I do, yes. It’s in the main wing, though, but my brothers don’t really read.”
I followed Nino back downstairs, but then I paused in the living area. There was still so much room, and I hadn’t seen a piano anywhere. I hadn’t even considered not having a piano at my disposal. Music had always been a part of my life. I couldn’t imagine living without it. “Do you have a piano somewhere in the house?”
Nino shook his head. “No. Do you play?”
“Yes. Well, I would if I had a piano.”
“Where would you put a piano?”
I looked around the room. It was minimally furnished. I didn’t think Nino spent a lot of time here. The Falcone brothers seemed to prefer spending time in the main wing during the day, if the amount of empty glasses and plates in the gaming room had been any indication. I motioned toward a spot close to the French windows. It would allow me to watch the sky while playing the piano. “This would be a good place, I think.”
Nino nodded but didn’t say anything.
“To the library?” I prompted, and he motioned me to follow him. As I walked beside Nino, I risked the occasional peek up at him. His expression was relaxed, at ease, but I supposed that was his default expression given his lack of emotions. The long-sleeved shirt hid his tattoos, and I realized his clothes always covered them. I wondered why he kept them hidden under layers of fabric. Weren’t most people proud of their body art? And it wasn’t like he had to cover his tattoos because of a straight-laced job. Even without the disturbing tattoos on display, Nino managed to carry a vibe of otherness, a subtle violent energy. It wasn’t as blatant as Remo’s, but it was there. Everyone who looked at Nino knew he was a man you shouldn’t cross. Not because of the muscles or his movements that screamed strength but because of a certain air of self-assurance, a confidence that said he knew he was deadly.
Nino’s gray eyes met mine, and I flushed. How long had I been staring? I quickly ducked my head and felt a rush of relief when he opened the door to a library. It made the one I’d had access to in Baltimore look like a measly broom closet. Situated in the back of the main wing, it was two stories high, and the shelves reached all the way to the top. A ladder on small wheels leaned against every row and reached the books at the very top. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to guess the number of books.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“I should give you fair warning: our selection of fiction titles is limited. Most of them are old classics or horrid bodice-rippers my mother used to read when she still lived here. I don’t read fiction and have switched over to buying books in ebook format since it simplifies storage and accessibility.”
I only half-listened as I walked through the nearest aisle, my eyes gliding over the spines. There were books about history and science, medicine and warfare. Classics like 1984 and Animal Farm, Jane Eyre and every play written by Shakespeare. Then I spotted the entire Harry Potter series, the spines cracked as if the books had been read too often. I touched the first book. I’d read it in the darkest time of my life and finding refuge in the world of those books had been the only light for me. I stopped, drawing in a deep breath. Books and music had always been my salvation. The scent of old leather and dusty paper was pure comfort.
I could spend a lifetime in this room and die happy.
When I finally turned away from the books, I caught Nino watching me with a small frown. I flushed. I must have looked like a lunatic, inhaling the library scent and smiling to myself.
I cleared my throat. “Are there any parts off limits for me?”
Nino raised his dark eyebrows. “Like the Dark Arts area?”
I froze, speechless, frozen, and utterly shocked. I swallowed. “Did you … did you just make a Harry Potter reference?” He must have noticed me touching the books.
“I did,” he said dryly, and I had to stifle laughter.
“Don’t tell me you read the books.”
“I didn’t read them for my own enjoyment. I read them to Adamo when we were on the run. He was obsessed with them, and Remo didn’t have the necessary patience to read bedtime stories. Besides, he had a habit of letting the Death Eaters and Voldemort win, and that upset Adamo when he was little.”
I laughed then fell silent, confused and overwhelmed by everything that I’d found out about Nino in these past few days. He was a man of many layers, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to fully grasp the top layer. I walked over to him. “It must have been hard to protect your little brother when you were fighting for your territory.”
Nino shrugged. “It was difficult, but Remo and I killed anyone who posed the slightest risk to Savio or Adamo. We couldn’t bother asking too many questions. The motto we lived by was kill first. Once we had established a stronghold on the territory, we made sure to torture people for information before we killed them.”
I looked up at him, trying to imagine what it must have been like back then. During the day Nino and Remo slaughtered their enemies and at night they came together in whatever dingy place they were hiding in at the time and read bedtime stories to Adamo and Savio.